


To Reverse a Curse…

by IndigoBloom



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoBloom/pseuds/IndigoBloom
Summary: Sam, Mike, and Chris return to Blackwood mountain, looking to save their friend. What they find is a curse…a curse that must be broken…but how?Note: Assume the story is in Chris' POV, unless otherwise stated.





	1. Return to Blackwood Mountain

 

I step off of the bus at the foot of Blackwood Mountain. “Yeah,” I say into my phone, “yeah, Ash, I’ll be fine,”

“Just…be careful,” she says, “and come back soon,”

“I will,” I say, “after we find Josh,”

She sighs. “Why do you want to find him?” she asks, “After what he did?”

“He didn’t hurt anyone,” I say, “He scared the hell out of us, but he didn’t kill anyone. And…he’s my best friend. I can’t just leave him on the mountain to die,”

“Or worse…” I hear her mutter, “Okay, I’m going to hang up now,”

“Okay,” I say, “Love you,”

“Love you, too,” she says, and I hear the beep of her hanging up.

I sigh as I put my phone away. She’s right. Something worse than death could have happened to him by now. It’s been at least a week since the police had stopped questioning us about what happened up at the lodge, and the questioning itself took a few days. Josh…Josh could have done something terrible in that time.

“Hey! Chris!” I hear Mike yell from a little bit further up the path, “I’m glad you could make it!”. He’s wearing jeans, work boots (steel toes I’m guessing), and a heavy-duty black coat.

“Hey, Mike,” I say, waving to him, “Where’s Sam?”

“A little bit further up the trail,” he says. He walks up to me and hands me what looks like a caulk-gun modified to spray a hairspray can, and a lighter. He has a similar contraption on his belt, along with a handgun.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking it.

“It’s as close to a flame-thrower as I could get,” he says, “There’s still Wendigos up here. I just want us to be prepared. Sam has one as well,”

“Oh,” I say, “Let’s just hope none of us set each other on fire,”

Mike laughs slightly, and he shakes his head. “Yeah,” he says, “let’s hope,”. He starts to walk up the trail, and I follow him. 

We meet up with Sam further up the trail, about halfway to the cable-car station. She’s wearing jeans, snow boots, and a dark red parka. Hanging from the belt of her jeans is a “flamethrower”. “Hey, Chris!” she says, waving at me, “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I say, “So…if Josh had…has…whatever…the key to the cable car station, how are we going to use it?”

“We’re not,” Mike says, turning to the woods next to the path, “There’s an entrance to the mines this way,”. He starts to tromp through the underbrush, along a path that has probably not been used in a while. “Keep your weapons ready,” he says to us, “And keep your eyes peeled. The warning signal is ‘Monarch’,”

“Is that like a safe word?” I joke.

Mike laughs. “Kind of,” he says, “It’s more of a signal for if you see a Wendigo. It tells us to stop in our tracks,”

I nod.

“Why do you two always have to mess around?” Sam asks, “‘Safe Word’? What are you, twelve?”

“I think it’s good that Chris can still crack jokes,” Mike says, “If it keeps him calm, let him,”

“What about you?” Sam asks, “Why do you clown around?”

“Same reason,” he says, “It keeps me from utterly freaking myself out,”

Sam just nods.

Mike’s leading the three of us, Sam’s in the middle, and I bring up the rear. 

Occasionally, I see a squirrel or a bird, but other than that, nothing. No movement. No sounds. Not even a breeze. It’s like the mountain itself is holding its breath.

“Something doesn’t seem right,” Sam hisses, probably to Mike, “We should go back,”

“No,” Mike says, “We’re nearly there,”

As we approach the mine-shaft entrance, I can feel a cool draft. First against us, then pulling us toward the cave, like a monstrous gaping mouth taking slow, silent breaths. I stop in my tracks, wild thoughts running through my head. Why hadn’t any wendigos come after us yet? Where’s Hannah? Why is the mountain so silent?


	2. Into the Mines

“Chris,” Mike says, switching on a flashlight, “Come on,”

I hesitate, but follow him into the tunnel. “Let’s find Josh,” I say.

“Where could he be, though,” Sam asks, switching on the head-lamp she’s wearing, “His ankle was hurt when we found him, so he couldn’t have gotten too far, and for all we know, Hannah may have…”

“No,” I say, “He’s alive. I know it,”

Sam and Mike, who are sill in front of me, look at each other, and then Sam looks at me. “But, Chris,” she says, “if he is still alive…”

“Which he is,” I insist.

“…he would have been down here for more than a week,” she says, “We may be too late,”

“No,” I say, “I refuse to believe that. We’re going to find him, and we’re going to bring him home,”

Sam sighs, and glances back at Mike. They share a pained look, and then they turn back forward, continuing down the tunnel.

_ I hate it how they treat me like a child, _ I think to myself.  _ I fought wendigos before. I’m not entirely helpless. _

We reach an area that seems to be half flooded.

“This is…” Mike starts, but his words get caught in his throat. “This is where she got him,” he manages. He points to the middle of the water. “Right there,” he says, “He recognized her. He said ‘Hannah’, and then she dragged him that way,”. He points across the water.

“Then, let’s start by heading that way,” Sam says.

“But, how are we going to get across?” I ask, “I don’t see a boat or anything,”

Sam and Mike look at each other.

“Him first?” Mike asks.

“Him first,” Sam says.

Mike nods, and he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Chris, buddy,” he says, pulling me toward the edge of the platform we’re standing on, “I’m just going to apologize for this now. But, keep in mind, we’re all going to have to suffer this,”

“What?” I ask, but his only answer is to lead me  _ off  _ of the platform. He stays on the platform as I plunge into icy cold water up to my belly-button. “HOLY JESUS CHRIST!” I exclaim, “Mike! What the fuck, dude?”. The cold of the frigid water claws into my legs, threatening frostbite.

Both Mike and Sam are trying to stop themselves from laughing.

“Sorry, Chris,” Mike says, “but…you’re now a worthy wendigo hunter,”

I scoff and roll my eyes, but I can’t help but start laughing as well. I slightly bow. “Why, thank you, master hunter Mike,” I say, “Now, get in here so we can freeze our balls off together,”

Mike laughs as he sits down on the edge of the platform, and lets himself fall into the water. He takes a sharp intake of breath. “Okay,” he says, “It’s colder than last time,”

Sam just shakes her head, and lowers herself into the water as well. She jumps in place in the water a little, gasping slightly. “Yep,” she says, “much colder than last time,”

Mike slightly laughs, and starts to trudge forward through the water. He leads us in the direction he indicated earlier, the ground underneath the water sloping down slightly so that the water is nearly to my armpits.

As we continue our slow, waterlogged pace, lightning fast movement out of the corner of my eye makes me stop.

“Monarch!” I say, quietly. “Monarch!” I repeat.

Mike stops.

Sam takes a moment, but then she stops as well, realizing what I said.

A light growling sound to our left echoes through the mine-shaft.

I turn my head very slowly, trying to look at who or what is there.

A large, pale wendigo is perched on a outcropping of rock, scanning the area, possibly looking for us. It sniffs the air, crouches down, ready to pounce, and springs forward. I’m ready for it to land on one of us, but it sails over Sam’s head, and plunges into the water yards from us.

I fight the urge to panic and run away, knowing full well that if I did, all of us would be killed. I swallow, thinking of Ashley, waiting for me at home. Thinking of her almost always calms me down.

The wendigo wades through the water, heading away from us. The sloshing of the water gets further and further away, but none of us dare to move.

I try my best not to hyperventilate. This is even more tense than in the lodge. There were more wendigos then, and they knew we were there. This time, it seems like we’re going to get away unnoticed.

The sloshing stops, and I can hear the wendigo crawl up onto the bank or platform, or whatever on the other side.

Slowly, I turn my head, and I watch the wendigo stand up to its full height, turn back toward us for a second, and then dash into a mine shaft.

I exhale and relax my shoulders. I had stood tense that entire time.

“That was close,” Mike says, “Let’s keep moving,”

Sam and I nod, and we continue forward, trying to keep quiet, but finding it impossible. We reach the other side, and Mike pulls himself out first. He then helps Sam up, and then me.

“This way,” Mike says, heading to the left, “He must be through here,”

Sam follows him, at a quick pace.

I follow, wary. I find myself in a small room with chains and a bird cage hanging from the ceiling.

“Oh, god,” Mike says, stopping, covering his nose, “Ugh…that’s…disgusting,”

I step around him to find a bloody pile of bones and cloth. As I stare for a minute, I recognize the coat. “It’s Flamethrower Guy,” I say.

“Or what’s left of him,” Sam says.

Mike crouches down, and picks up a bone. “Huh,” he says, inspecting it, “that’s…weird,”

“What?” I ask.

“It’s covered in scratches, like the bone has been gnawed on,” Mike says, “like his corpse was  _ eaten _ ,”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“Well,” Sam says, pulling out an old journal, “He did write that wendigos have an appetite for human flesh, living or dead. Maybe Hannah got to him?”

I can hear a low growling from behind us.

“Guys,” I say.

“Maybe,” Mike says, “But…I…I don’t know. Strange and gross as this sounds, some of the blood looks kind of fresh, for a dead guy, like the flesh was just recently eaten,”

The growling gets louder.

“Guys,” I say again.

“Well,” Sam says, “Maybe Hannah just recently got to eating him,”

I slowly turn around to see a figure crouching in the shadows behind us.

“Guys!” I say, “M-m…m…monarch!”

They both instantly go silent.

The figure crawls toward us, slightly limping. The growling gets louder the closer they get. Then, the figure steps into a beam of light.

I gasp. 

“J-Josh?”


	3. Reunion

Josh…or the wendigo…or…Joshigo? Whatever he is, he glares at me, and growls, a deep, guttural, animalistic sound Josh shouldn’t be able to make. He looks kind of like himself, like he’s not fully a wendigo yet. His eyes have started to turn pale, though, and his teeth have seemed to been sharpened or elongated into points, most breaking through the flesh of his left cheek. He’s covered in bruises, cuts, and blood, either his or…someone else's. He’s still wearing the overalls that he was a week or so ago when the shit hit the fan. He tries to take another step toward me, but he winces, and growls in pain. He crouches down, balancing on his left foot and his hands.

“Josh,” I say, slowly putting my hands up and crouching in front of him, “It’s me. It’s Chris. I know you’re still in there, Josh. Please, speak to me,”

He glares at me, still growling, and he crouches further, like he’s going to pounce on me. But then, he winces again, and blinks rapidly. His growling becomes louder as he puts his hands up to the sides of his head, like he’s trying to block out a sound. He loses his balance and falls onto his butt, still clutching the sides of his head, eyes shut tight, growling in pain or in effort. Slowly, the growling becomes more like grunts of pain and gasps. Josh’s eyes shoot open as he half-gasp-half-screams. He looks at me, eyes clear, and a slight smile flashes on the side of his face not dominated by wendigo teeth. “Hey,  Cochise ,” he croaks, voice hoarse, “you made it…”

I sigh, and I start to move closer to him, but his eyes open wide in panic.

“Don’t,” he says, “I…I don’t know how long I can st-stay in…in control,”

I just nod, and I stay where I am.

“Chris,” he says, “You…you have to do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything,” I say.

“Get me the hell off of this mountain,” he say, a pleading tone creeping into his voice, “Either that or kill me. I…I don’t want to stay like this forever. Wendigos pretty much live forever, and…I know what’s happening. I can still…I can still taste blood…I…I,”. It’s seems like he’s about to cry.

“We’ll get you off of the mountain,” I say, “Killing you is not an option,”

“Whoah, whoah, wait,” Sam says, “Chris, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Um…sure,” I say standing up.

She grabs me by my shoulder an takes me to a corner of the room. “Don’t make promises to him,” she scolds me, “we don’t even know if we can trust him!”

“Why can’t we?” I ask, “He called me by my nickname. That’s proof enough to me that that’s really Josh,”

“Yeah, well,” Sam says, “Flamethrower Guy has it written down in his journal that wendigos can imitate human speech. He could just be acting,”

“No,” I say, “That’s really Josh. His eyes changed when he talked to me. When he was growling, his eyes were cloudy, but when he started talking to me, they were clear,”

Sam just shakes her head. “I’m just saying that he could be tricking you,” she says, “Just…be careful,”

“I will be,” I say, and I turn away from her. I walk back over to Josh, who is still sitting on the floor, looking around, terrified. He seems a bit jittery, but, I would be too, if I were in his position.

He notices my approach, and fakes a smile. “Hey,” he says to me, “d-…do you…do you have anything to eat?”

This takes me by surprise slightly. I turn to Sam, who is flipping through the Journal.

“Here,” she says, pointing to a page, “‘Wendigos are driven only by their intense hunger for human flesh. All actions made by a wendigo is instinctual, like a hunter closing in on prey, with that prey being humans (ie. doctors and nurses at the Sanatorium, other miners in the Mines, unsuspecting teens at the lodge)’. Oh, that was a sly reference to us,”. The last bit she said sarcastically.

“So…how did he become a wendigo?” I ask.

“I was desperate,” Josh says, “I…I had nothing else to do. I had already been down here for days, and his body was just hanging there. I was…I was just so… _ hungry _ ,” He gasps in pain, and clutches the sides of his head again, squeezing his eye tight. He keeps muttering the word, “hungry”, the words becoming more and more growl-like.

“Guys,” Mike says, “I think we should get out of here before wendigo-Josh returns,”

Sam grabs my arm, and we all rush out of the room, back into the flooded room. We find another smaller room branching off to the side, and we sit down against the cave walls.

“The way for a person to turn into a wendigo,” Sam says, “is to resort to cannibalism on cursed indian grounds. We may already be too late. The journal doesn’t seem to be any mention of how to reverse the effects of the curse,”

“We need to get him off of the mountain,” I say, “Then we can try to feed him regular food, and see where it goes from there,”

“I don’t think that he would  _ want _ regular food,” Mike says, “don’t they  _ only _ eat human flesh?”

“We could get him to eat when he’s Josh,” Sam says, “Not the wendigo. Like, when the human side of him has control,”

“That seems like a good idea,” I say, “But…how are we going to get him off of the mountain?”

“We could catch him,” Mike says, “like…lure him into a cage, and then close it behind him. Then, we can drag the cage to my truck at the base of the mountain,”

I nod. “That could work,” I say.

“But…what are we going to lure him with?” Sam asks.

“We could grab some of Flamethrower Guy’s remains,” I suggest.

Mike’s face looks grim, but he nods. “That seems like the best option,” he says.

“Alright,” I say, “Let’s go save Josh,”


	4. No Man Left Behind

I’m crouching behind a stalagmite, holding a rope that’s connected to the door of the modified animal cage we have set out. There’s a bone that still has some scraps on it from Flamethrower guy’s remains sitting in the cage, and a trail of the other bones and things leading from the mouth of the tunnel we’re in to the cage.

Sam and Mike are hiding in strategic places along the cave. They each have pipes that they found in the mines, and when Josh passes them, they’ll knock on the stone twice, letting me know if he’s getting close.

The caves have been silent for ten minutes. My legs are starting to cramp up, so I start bouncing on the balls of my feet. I sigh, a plume of moisture pushing through the air. It must be below freezing. I wouldn’t want to be in the water right now.

Two metallic knocks ring out further down the tunnel. Josh must have passed Mike.

I adjust my grip on the rope I’m holding, and I position myself so I can see the tunnel entrance.

Two more knocks ring out, closer to me this time. Josh has passed Sam.

I hold my breath, and exhale slowly through my nose. He should be here any moment now.

Josh, crouched down, limps out of the shadows of the tunnel, and I can see his cloudy eyes glance around the cave. His eyes land on the cage, and he starts to growl.

I hold my breath.  _ Please, let this work…  _ I think,  _ …please… _

Josh crawls closer to the cage, inspecting the trail of bones as he approaches. He slowly crawls into the cage, and I see him pick up the large scrap. As he lifts it to his face, he sniffs it, and then starts to gnaw on the bone, trying to get every last scrap of meat.

I drop the rope, and the gate to the cage slams closed. I stand up, getting my flamethrower ready, and I approach the cage.

Mike walks up behind me, and pats my shoulder. “That worked like a charm,” he says, “Now…how are we going to get him down the mountain?”

I think for a minute, putting padlocks wherever I can on the cage door, so Josh can’t get out. “We could make a sleigh like thing and pull it along behind us,” I say, “We’re not too far from a mine entrance. We can carry him outside, and then use the sled from there,”

Mike tilts his head. “I suppose that could work,” he says, “Someone would have to go ahead to find wood to work,”

“I’ll do that,” Sam volunteers, “You two can handle carrying Josh out of the mines, right?”

“Of course,” Mike says.

“Yep,” I mutter. I stare back at the cage, and the Joshigo stares back at me. I sigh. “What are we going to do with him, though?” I ask, “Where are we going to keep him?”

“Do you think we can take him to his parent?” Mike asks.

“Absolutely not,” Sam says, “They would not take it well at all,”

“Then, where are we going to keep him?” I ask.

“You have a basement right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” I say.

“We can take him there,” she says, “ _ You _ agreed to take him off of the mountain,  _ you _ take care of him,”

I nod. “Fair enough,” I say, “We can take him through the back door,”

Sam nods, and then jogs down the tunnel, exiting the mines.

I turn to Mike, who turns to me, and then we both turn to the cage.

“Let’s get started, then,” Mike says, heading to the far side of the cage.

I walk up to the near side of the cage, and grab the bars closest to the top.

“When I say lift,” Mike says, bending his knees to lift the cage, “Lift. Tell me if you need a break,”

“Okay,” I say, holding my side of the cage in a similar manner.

“Ready?” Mike says.

“Yep,” I say.

“Okay, Lift!” he says, and we lift the cage at the same time.

With the both of us lifting the cage, it lifts easily. I have to shuffle backwards down the tunnel, with Mike telling me when to turn. We only have to stop once, briefly. When we reach the outside of the mines, I’m almost blinded by the sun reflecting off of the snow.

“Where’s Sam?” I ask.

“Right here,” I hear her say, walking down the path, holding two pairs of old skis, “Will these work?”

“That’s perfect,” Mike says, “Where did you get them?”

“The Cable Car station,” she says, “They have a whole back room of them,”

I laugh

She places them in front of us, spaced out, and holds them still as Mike and I lift the cage on top of them. The cage makes them sink into the snow a little, but as Mike and I secure them onto the cage, they slide easily.

“Okay,” Mike says, throwing a tarp over the cage, “let’s push the cage down to my truck,”

I nod.

Mike stands in the middle of one side of the cage, I stand to his left, and Sam stands to his right. We all start to push the cage, and we make sure that it doesn’t slide out of control. It takes us a while to get it down to Mike’s truck.

“Now,” Mike says, after we get the cage into the bed of the truck, “to get Joshy-boy to Chris’ house,”

“Okay,” I say, and I’m about to close the back flap of the bed when I hear a noise from the cage.

“Psst!” I hear Josh say, muffled slightly by the tarp, “Hey, Cochise,”

I lean closer to the cage. “Yeah?” I say.

“When we get to your house,” he says, “I want you to contact my psychiatrist, Dr. Hill, okay?”

“Why?” I ask.

“He can help,” Josh says, “Please. Explain the situation to him, and ask him to help,”

“Okay,” I say, “I’ll see what I can do,”

“Thanks, bro,” Josh says, “I’m so glad that you guys found me,”

“Me too,” I say, and I close the back flap and walk away. I get into the truck, and Mike starts the truck.

As we drive away, I watch the mountain. I can almost feel it watching me, like Hannah knows that we took Josh, and she’s trying to glare at us from wherever she is on the mountain for not trying to help her as well.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, “we were too late to save you. He’ll be safe with us, though. I promise,”


	5. Help Wanted

I’m standing by my front door, waiting. I had just gotten off of the phone with Ashley ten minutes ago, and I had talked to Dr. Hill before that. I want Ashley to know that Josh is in my basement, and Josh had asked me to get Dr. Hill.

The doorbell rings.

I answer the door, and a man is standing on my doorstep. 

He has thinning, grey hair, and green eyes. He’s wearing a black coat over dark blue dress-pants and shiny black dress shoes. He leans slightly away, mildly surprised. “Are you Christopher Hartley?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, “You must be Dr. Hill, Josh’s psychiatrist,”

Dr. Hill nods. “You told me you wanted to talk with me,” he says, “about Josh. And you insisted that it needed to be here at your house,”

“Yeah,” I say, turning to the side to open up the doorway, “Please, come in. I’m just waiting for one more person,”

Dr. Hill nods, and he passes me.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I ask, “Coffee?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he says, hanging up his coat. He’s wearing a charcoal grey sweater vest, white shirt and blue tie.

I just nod, and I’m about to close the door, when I see Ashley running across the street. “Hey, Chris,” she says as she reaches the door. She hugs me and kisses me on my cheek. “What’s up? You sounded freaked during the phone call,”

I just take her hand, and I pull her into the house.

“Ashley,” I say, dragging her to where Dr. Hill is standing, staring at a shelf of books, “This is Dr. Hill. He is Josh’s psychiatrist,”

“Don’t you mean ‘was’?” Ash says, “Josh was lost up on the Mountain. The police told his parents he’s dead,”

“That’s what I heard as well,” Dr. Hill says, “Mr. Hartley, I would like an explanation,”

“Then follow me,” I say, “Everything will be explained,”

Dr. Hill narrows his eyes, and slowly nods.

“Okay,” Ash says, “I trust you, Chris,”

I nod to her, and I turn around, walking out of the room. I walk down the hall, into the kitchen, and I open the basement door. I listen for a second. There’s a rough, even breathing noise. “He’s asleep,” I say, mainly to myself, but I’m sure Dr. Hill heard me.

“Who?” he asks, “What’s going on?”

I just put a finger to my lips, and I start down the basement steps, quietly. I walk to the middle of the room, where Josh’s cage is, and I kneel down in front of it.

Josh is curled up in the middle of the blankets I gave him. He’s in different clothing than what we’ve found him in. He’s now wearing a pair of my old jeans and a t-shirt. I also put an improvised ankle brace on his injured foot, and he’s wearing a modified dog muzzle that Mike made, so he doesn’t bite anyone. He’s relatively clean now, though.

I put my hand into the cage, and I lightly poke his shoulder.

He stirs a little.

“Josh,” I say, shaking him slightly, “Josh, wake up,”

His eyes, cloudy grey, snap open.

I pull my hand away quickly, and I back up a few steps.

He springs up into a crouch with lighting speed, and he glares at us. A quiet growling sound starts as he crouches against the far side of the cage.

I look over at Dr. Hill.

His eyes are opened wide, mouth slightly ajar. “Is…is that…” he mutters, “… _ Joshua _ ?”

“Yes,” I say.

“What happened to him?” he asks, “Why…why does his mouth look like that?”

“He…well,” I start, “…he’s been cursed,”

“There’s no such things as curses,” Dr. Hill mutters, but he doesn’t seem so sure.

“It’s an old Cree curse,” I say, “I’ve researched it. It’s known mainly as the Mountain’s Curse, or…the Curse of the Wendigo,”

“Wendigos are stories,” Dr. Hill says, in disbelief, “stories to keep children from straying too far from home. Bogeymen,”

“Look at Josh and tell me that’s fake,” I say gesturing to the Joshigo in the cage, “He was halfway through the transformation when we found him. But he’s fighting. He’s more than just a monster,”

“How,” Dr. Hill says, “He looks like an animal,”

I walk up to the cage, and kneel in front of it again. I press my hands against the bars, palms facing the Joshigo.

He stares at me for a second.

“Chris!” Ashley calls out, “What are you doing? He’s  _ dangerous _ !”

“He’s muzzled,” I say, “Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bite me,”

The Joshigo shuffles up to my side of the cage, and his growling lessens. He stares at my hands for a minute, then he presses his pale hands, with nails like claws, against where mine are. He blinks rapidly, and shakes his head, growling a bit. He closes his eyes, shudders, and then gasps, eye opening his eyes wide. His eyes are clear again, their normal bright green. He looks me in the eyes, and he smiles slightly. “Hey, Chris,” he mutters, and then his eyes flick to behind me, “You kept your promise,”

“Of course I did,” I say, “That’s what best friends do,”

Josh chuckles. “I’ve been kind of a shitty best friend recently, though,”

I shake my head. I stand up and walk over to a cooler I keep in the basement. I grab a sandwich wrapped in cellophane, and I take it over to Josh. “Here,” I say, handing  it to him, “Turn around so I can help you with the muzzle,”

“Okay,” he mutters, taking the sandwich. He turns around, and I reach my hands into the cage, and I undo the buckles on the back of the muzzle.

Dr. Hill walks up next to me, and crouches down. “Hello, Joshua,” he mutters.

Josh pauses. “Hello, Dr. Hill,” he says.

“Are you okay?” Hill asks.

Joshua hangs his head. “You were right,” he says, voice full of pain, “I…I made a mistake going through with that plan. I…I nearly got all of my friends killed. Just for what, revenge? You were right. I should have listened to you,”

Dr. Hill sighs. “It’s good to hear you say that, Joshua,” he says, “And I’m sorry that we meet again under these circumstances,”

Josh nods, and turns back around. His eyes are dripping with tears. He stares sadly at the sandwich. “I don’t deserve this kindness,” he mutters.

“Eat the sandwich, Josh,” I say.

Josh just nods, and he takes a bite of the sandwich. He sighs, and he takes another large bite. He starts to eat the sandwich ravenously, like he hasn’t eaten in months.

Dr. Hill just watches him, concern, curiosity, and surprise all clearly portrayed at the exact same time with his expression. He purses his lips for a second, thinking, and then he stands up. “Christopher,” he asks, “would you mind if I make regular visits to Joshua? I would like to help you return him to normal, if possible,”

“I wouldn’t mind,” I say, “That sounds great,”

“But, could you also enlighten me in all that you’ve found about Josh’s condition?” he asks.

“Oh, sure,” I say, standing up, “Are you going to be alright alone down here, Josh?”

He stares at me for a second, wiping crumbs and things off of this face. “Uh…I think that it would be safe to put the muzzle back on me first,” he says.

I nod, and I help him put it back on. I then lead Dr. Hill and Ashley back upstairs. I make coffee for them both.

“Ask any questions you want,” I say, leaning against a counter in the kitchen.

“Where to start…” Dr. Hill says, “…um…how did this happen to him?”

“He was…lost,” I say, “Taken by another wendigo we believe used to be Hannah. He recognized her, and she recognized him, so she didn’t kill him. But, he was stuck down in the mines for…god knows how long, and…” I just shrug, not know what else to say.

“But, if he were stuck down there,” Hill says, “what did he eat?”

“That’s why he is the way he is,” I say, “He became so hungry and desperate that he turned to…cannibalism. There was already a dead body down there, so…”

“Oh, god,” Ash mutters, “That…terrible…”

“And, that’s how a wendigo is created?” Dr. Hill asks.

“Resorting to cannibalism on cursed Native American grounds,” I say nodding, “yes,”

“But, why is he lucid sometimes?” Hill asks.

“He’s fighting against the curse,” I say, “We don’t know how, but he is. We’ve been trying to counteract the curse, but…no progress so far,”

“How are you trying to counteract it?” Hill asks.

“Well, wendigos have an insatiable hunger for human flesh,” I start, “so, when Josh  _ is _ lucid, we give him normal human food, like you saw with the sandwich. We’re going to keep doing this until he’s lucid for longer periods of time, and the physical changes disappear,”

“Other than his eyes being cloudy, the teeth, and the claws, what other physical changes have happened?” Hill asks.

“Well,” I say, “wendigos are generally much stronger, faster, and harder to kill than humans are. Their only real weakness is fire. They also have heightened senses of smell, hearing and sight. Normal wendigos can only see things that are in motion, so other than avoiding them in general, the only real defence against them is staying as still as possible,”

Dr. Hill nods, and takes a sip of coffee, staring off into space.

It’s at this point in time that I noticed that Ashley’s gone. She left her mug behind. I check my phone, and I see I have an unread text from her. I open the text. It reads: “srry i left so quickly. i just felt uncomfortable being there. i can’t believe Josh is alive, and one of those…things. i’ll text you tomorrow. <3”. I sigh.

“Have you tried actually talking to a Native American?” Dr. Hill asks.

“What?” I say, looking up at him.

“About Josh’s curse,” he says, “have you tried talking to a Native American?”

“No,” I say, “that sounds like a good idea, though,”

Dr. Hill just nods. “Are you going to tell Joshua’s parents where he is?” he asks.

I sigh. “No,” I say, “It’s better that then don’t know, for now at least,”

“When are you going to tell them?” he asks.

“When Josh is back to normal,” I say.

He nods. He sets down his mug of coffee. “I’ll come back in two days to talk with Joshua,” he says, standing up. He walks up to me, extending his hand.

I take his hand, and shake it.

“It was nice to meet you, finally, Christopher,” he says, “Joshua would talk about you often during our sessions. He really appreciates your friendship,”

I nod. “It was good to meet you, too,” I say, “I’m glad that you agree to help us,”

“It’s what I do,” he says, “Help people, no matter how difficult it may be,”


	6. Heartbreak

(Three weeks later)

“Chris!” I hear Ashley call from upstairs.

I look at the basement stairs, and I put my hand of cards face down on the table I’m sitting at.

“Were you aware she was coming?” Dr. Hill asks, looking up from his own hand of cards.

“No,” I say, standing up, “This is weird,”

“You better go see what she wants,” Jos says, hands outside the cage, holding a hand of cards.

“As long as I can trust you guys not to look at my hand when I leave,” I joke.

“You have my word,” Dr. Hill says.

“I make no such promises, Cochise,” Josh says, winking.

I chuckle, and I head up the stairs. I find Ashley pacing in my kitchen, arms crossed muttering to herself. “Yeah, Ash?” I say, walking up to her, “What’s up? You look upset,”

She scoffs. “Like you care,” she mutters.

“Whoah,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” she shouts, “Everything that you’re doing is  _ wrong _ ! It’s like you care more about that…that… _ THING  _ than me!”

“He isn’t a ‘thing’,” I say, “It’s Josh. And I don’t care more about him. I care about you both, in different ways. You’re my girlfriend, he’s my best friend,”

“Yeah, well, he’s a monster,” she says, harshly, “What do you expect to do with him? Keep him as a pet?”

“We’re going to return him to normal,” I say.

“‘Normal’?!” she practically screams, “He’s insane! You…you’re insane!”

“He was just having a bad time on the mountain, okay?” I yell back, “And he wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t done that stupid prank last year!”

“Don’t you DARE throw that back in my face!” she yells, “You’re just as guilty as me!”

“No, I’m not!” I yell, “I was passed out when you guys decided to embarrass Hannah! That was just  _ wrong _ ! You guys were supposed to be their  _ friends _ ! Now look where that’s gotten her!”

“Yeah,” she says, “You pay more attention to things like Josh’s family, and Josh’s sisters. You don’t pay attention to me,”

“Don’t make this about you!” I say.

“Why not?” She shouts, “I’m supposed to get attention from you! We’re dating, for Christ’s sake!”

“Because it makes you sound shallow, like Emily!” I shout in her face.

She glares at me, eyes filled with tears. “Then, maybe,” she says, “I shouldn’t expect so much from you. It’s over, Chris.  _ We’re _ over,”

“Fine,” I huff, “Good riddance. Get out of my house,”

She looks at me, confused, like she had wanted me to react differently, like she wanted me to get on my knees and beg for her not to dump me. “Fine,” she says, and she turns around. She stomps out of my house, not even turning back, and she slams my front door shut.

I glare at the door, tears of anger filling my eyes. I go back down into the basement. I know that Hill and Josh had heard us, because they’re staring at me, their eyes wide.

“H-hey, Cochise,” Josh says to me, like he’s trying to comfort me, “You good?”

“No,” I say, “Ashley just dumped me because I’m trying to help my best friend. She called you a monster,”

Hill slowly nods. “Maybe this is for the greater good,” he says, “she doesn’t seem to be the best of people,”

“She really is a nice person,” I say, “I don’t know why she lashed out like that. Maybe because what happened with the wendigos up on the mountain,”

“Traumatic experiences can make people do strange things,” Hill agrees, “Well, let’s just keep moving onward and upward, then, huh? Joshua, do you have any Jacks?”

“Go fish,” Josh says, “Chris do you have any threes?”

“You looked at my cards!” I say, looking at my hand.

“I swear to you I didn’t,” Josh says smiling.

“I can confirm that,” Hill says, “He didn’t look at your cards,”

I chuckle and shake my head as I place one of my three threes onto the table, in front of Josh.

\----------------------------------

Later that night, I’m sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against some cabinets. I couldn’t sleep. Images of Ash tearing out my heart with taloned hands kept plaguing my dreams. I cross my arms and rest them on my knees. I rest my forehead on my forearms, and I close my eyes. I start to shake with sobs. I can’t stop myself. I feel so hopeless. So…alone.

“Chris?” I can hear Josh call from downstairs, “Is…is that you?”

I look at the basement door, which is slightly open, and I stand up.

“Yeah,” I call down.

“Are you crying?” he asks.

“Yeah…” I say.

I hear him sigh. “Come down here,” he says, “please?”

I nod, and I stand up. I walk down the basement stairs, and I approach him. I sit in front of the cage on the floor.

He looks at me, worried, and he reaches his hands through the bars of the cage. He wipes tears from my cheeks, and then he puts his hands on my shoulders.

I sigh, and place my hands on his elbows. I lean my head between two bars of the cage.

He does the same, and I feel his forehead touch mine. “Everything will be okay, Chris,” he mutters, “I’m here for you,”

“Thanks, Josh,” I say.

“No, problem, Cochise,” he says.


	7. A Beast Set Free

Over the next week, every night, I visit Josh, and we sit there, foreheads pressed together through the bars of the cage. I’ve always considered him as something of and older brother, but…things change. He’s thoughtful, funny, and he…he’s just a really great friend. But…I don’t want to be just  _ friends _ . I want…more. I need to talk to him.

“Hey, Josh,” I say to him, one day while we’re playing checkers, “do…is…is it possible…”. I sigh.

Josh chuckles. “Yeah,” he says, “I know, Cochise. I’ve been having the same questions about myself. I thought I was straight too, but…heh, well…”

“I want to be with you Josh,” I say, not looking at him, “I…I want… _ you _ ,”

He’s silent.

_ Damnit,  _ I think,  _ I fucked up, didn’t I? _

Suddenly, I feel him grab my hand, and he holds it tightly. “I know,” he says, “I…I want to be with you, but…you know just as well as I do, that can’t happen. Not yet, at least. I’m still dangerous,”

I sigh. “I know,” I say, “I know,”

Josh sighs. “What time is it?” he mutters.

I look at my phone. “9:30 at night,” I say, “I should probably go to sleep,”. I start to stand up, when Josh pulls my hand slightly.

“Stay,” he mutters, “please,”

I stare at him for a second. I slightly smile, and I nod. I walk over to the door of the cage, which has been padlocked in place, and I take out the key for the padlock. I unlock the door, and, kneeling in front of it, I open the door.

Josh crawls over to me, and wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him for a hug.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and I let myself get pulled closer to him.

He pulls me onto his lap and holds me tight, resting his forehead against mine.

My eyelids feel heavy as I lean into Josh. I let my eyes close.

Josh rests his hands on my hips.

I move my hands to rest on his neck. As I fall asleep, I feel Josh pull me further into the cage, and he pulls me with as he lays down. 

He holds me tight to him, and he sighs.

I rest my head on his chest, and I fall asleep. A deep, dreamless, comfortable sleep.

\----------

(A week later; Josh’s POV)

I wake up to find Chris using my shoulder as a pillow. 

His face is scrunched in a look of concentration, like he’s thinking about a really hard math problem or something.

I smile slightly. The dope has been working himself to death between classes. I can’t believe that he has three jobs, and he’s going to college for computer programming. He’s going to change the world someday, I’m sure of it.

Chris’ phone goes off, his morning class alarm. He stirs slightly, and grabs his phone. He turns the alarms off, and looks up at me.

“Morning, Chris,” I say, smiling.

“How long have you been up?” he asks.

“A few minutes,” I say.

He puts on his glasses, and holds himself up, on all fours, above me. He stares down at me, smiling. He then leans toward me, his mouth approaching mine.

I hold him back. “Chris,” I say, “I can’t,”

He sighs. “Right,” he mutters, sitting back and moving to the door of the cage, “Sorry, I…I just…”

“I mean,” I say sitting up as well, “it’s not that I don’t  _ want _ to kiss you, I…I just…don’t want to hurt you,”

“You wouldn’t,” he says.

“You don’t know that,” I say, “I know that we’ve gotten rid of the muzzle because I haven’t had an… _ episode _ for a few weeks now, but…” I motion my hand to my razor sharp teeth.

Chris stands up, outside the cage. He looks both disappointed and angry.

“Hey, Cochise,” I say, “I…”

“Don’t,” Chris says, “I need to get to class,”

I sigh, and close the cage door. “Okay,” I say, “See you later?”

“Yeah…” he says, “see you later,”. He walks out of the basement, and I listen after him, as I can do with wendigo-level super-hearing . As he makes it to the kitchen, he stops. “Hill?” he asks.

_ Why is Dr. Hill here? _ I think to myself.

“How did you get in?” Chris asks.

“The front door was unlocked,” Dr. Hill says, “Why were you down there so early in the morning?”

“Uh…” Chris starts.

Dr. Hill sighs. “You’ve been sleeping with Joshua, haven’t you?” he asks.

I hear Chris sigh. He’s silent, so he must have nodded his head.

“You know that he’s still dangerous,” Dr. Hill says, “You’re being reckless,”

“No, I’m not!” Chris says, “I think he’s ready to be let out of the cage, at least to take him to someone who can help! I know that we can’t fix his physical appearance, but a Cree shaman may be able to,”

“No,” Dr. Hill says, “That’s too dangerous,”

“We could have him wear a bandana or hospital mask over his mouth,” Chris says, “And we’d be with him…”

“Out of the question, Christopher,” Dr. Hill says, “Joshua is not going anywhere. We can bring help to him,”

“But…” Chris starts.

“No,” Dr. Hill says, “We need to treat him like any other dangerous animal: with caution,”

The kitchen goes silent. “He is not an animal,” Chris says, through clenched teeth, “He’s a human,”

“No, he’s not,” Dr. Hill says, “He’s a wendigo,”

I stop listening. Anger is boiling in my chest.  _ An animal? _ I think,  _ Is that really how Dr. Hill sees me? I…I need to prove him wrong…I need to find help on my own. _ I open the cage door, and step out. Chris had taken the ankle brace off of me a week or so ago, but my ankle still hurts a bit as I walk. I search around the basement for things I may need. I grab a coat and scarf, and put on a pair of Chris’ work-boots. I walk over to the cooler, and grab a sandwich. I find the jar that Chris has been putting money in. He had told me that he was saving money for me, for when I can leave the cage. I silently thank him as I shove the money into my pocket. I put on the coat, and wrap the scarf around my mouth and nose, to hide my teeth. I creep up the stairs of the basement, moving as slowly and quietly as I can. I stop, and listen. Not a sound. I slowly open the basement door, and I can see Dr. Hill, facing away from me, reading a newspaper. There’s a very savage impulse in the back of my mind to walk up behind him and use my claws to slit his throat, but, I fight it. I’m  _ not _ an animal. I slowly, quietly, creep out of the basement door, and to the back door. I know that Chris’s house is near the woods, and on the other side of the woods is a highway. If I can get there, I can get to a bus station. As I open the back door, it’s old hinges cry out, making me freeze. I glance back at Dr. Hill.

He had turned his head slightly in my direction. He folds up his news paper, and stands up turning toward me. When he sees me, he doesn’t look surprised, but…calm. “Joshua,” he says, “whatever you plan on doing, don’t. We can help,”

“No,” I say, “I…I need to do this on my own…I…”

Chris walks into the room, and his eyes open wide when he sees me. “Josh!” he says.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” I say, opening the back door, “Just…don’t follow me,”

“Wait, Josh!” Chris calls after me as I run out of the house, toward the back fence. 

I see a picnic table, and I jump onto it, using that leverage and momentum to vault up to the fence. I perch on the top of the fence. My chest is pumping with adrenaline. Is…is this what I can do if I accept the wendigo side of me? I look back at the house, and see Chris standing on the back porch, being held back by Dr. Hill. “I love you, Cochise,” I mutter, and I drop off of the fence, into the woods on the other side.


	8. On the Road

“So…” I mutter to myself, standing in front of a map a a bus station, “…Blackwood is here, and Chris’ house is here…and I’m here…where is…?”

“Can I help you, sir?” the woman behind the desk asks me.

“Uh…yeah,” I say, walking up to the information desk, “do you know where any Cree communities are?”

“Do you mind if I ask why?” she says, briefly glancing at my scarf, that I’m using as a face mask.

“No,” I say, running believable cover stories through my head, “It…It’s for…uh…a college class,”

She nods. “What class?” she asks, typing on a computer behind the desk.

“Uh…history,” I say, trying to sound casual, and not nervous.

“Oh, cool,” she says, totally buying my story, “There seems to be a Cree community at the base of Blackwood Mountain,”

_ Of course there is, _ I think to myself.

“It’s kind of hidden in the woods,” she continues, “but there is a dirt road that leads to it. One of our buses should be able to take you to the dirt road,”

“Thanks,” I say, “What bus goes that way?”

“The 2:05,” she says, “It leaves in ten minutes,”

“I’ll take a ticket for that one, then,” I say, getting out my money. I buy the bus ticket, and I start to walk away.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the woman says, “Why…why do you hide your face with that scarf?”

I pause. “I…uh…I had a…motorcycle accident,” I say, “It tore up my face real bad. I…I don’t like people staring at the scars so…”

“Oh,” she say, “I’m sorry. That sounds painful,”

“It was,” I say, “but…it’s okay now,”

“Well,” she says, “Safe travels,”

“Thanks,” I say, and I exit the bus station. I sit on a bench for a minute. It feels wrong to lie, but…it needs to be done. No one will believe the truth.

Two kids walk by me, a girl about twelve and a boy about seven, holding hands. Both of them have a darker complexion. The girl’s ebony hair is pulled back into a long braid, tied at the end with a string of colorful beads and a black and white feather. Other than that, she’s dressed normally, and so is the little boy. The little boy’s hair seems to be long as well, tied into a small bun at the back of his head.

The little boy looks at me, and smiles.

I smile back, and wave slightly.

“Mukki,” The girl hisses to him, “what have I told you about talking to strangers?”

“I didn’t say nothing, Tahki,” Mukki whines.

“ _ Anything _ ,” Tahki sighs, “You didn’t say  _ anything _ ,”

“Yeah,” Mukki says.

Tahki pulls him away, and they sit at a bench a little bit away from me. Tahki takes out a bag, and takes out two sandwiches wrapped in plastic.

My stomach growls. I had eaten my sandwich a while ago, and I don’t think the bus station sells food. I cross my arms over my stomach, trying not to think of how hungry I am. I’m already constantly hungry, as a wendigo, and there’s always a pull, like a tiny voice, urging me to pounce on the nearest person and tear out their neck with my teeth, but…I won’t. Chris…Chris had gotten me so far…I can’t just give up now. My stomach growls louder.

Mukki walks up to me, and holds out his sandwich to me. “Here,” he says, “you hungry?”

I stare at him, and then the sandwich, then back at him. I lightly push it away. “You need it more than me,” I mutter, “you keep it,”

“But you’re hungry,” he says, pushing it toward me, “take it,”

I shake my head. “I can’t,” I say, “It wouldn’t feel right, taking a kid’s sandwich,”

“Not if the kid is offering it to you,” he says, still smiling, “Tahki packed extra. I’ll just grab another,”

I laugh. He reminds me of Chris. “Okay,” I say, taking the sandwich.

Mukki walks back over to Tahki, grabs another sandwich, and then walks back over to me. He sit on the bench next to me.

I loosen the bottom of my scarf, so I can reach underneath and eat the sandwich. I take a bite of the sandwich, and I chew, slowly. Chris kept reminding me that humans don’t just scarf down their food. They eat slowly, so that’s what I try to do.

“Why do you wear a mask?” Mukki asks, mouth full of sandwich.

“My face is scarred,” I say, “I’d rather people not judge me for what I look like, but what I do,”

Mukki nods. “Wise,” he says, “You sound like Mama Nadie,”

I chuckle, and nod. “Thank you,” I say.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“A…uh, Cree community at the base of Blackwood Mountain,” I say.

Mukki turns to me, eyes wide. “That’s where we live!” he says, excited, “We can sit together on the bus!”

I smile. “That sounds nice,” I say, “I’ve been traveling alone for a bit, it’d be nice to be able to sit with someone. If Tahki would allow it, that is,”

“She doesn’t matter,” Mukki says, “She think she’s in charge, but really, Mama Nadie’s in charge. She’s a shaman, see? She can do some cool stuff with nothing but leaves, chicken bones and water,”

I get excited when I hear the word “Shaman”.

“Mukki!” Tahki calls, “The bus is about to leave!”

“Coming!” Mukki calls back, “The Stranger is sitting with us!”

“What?!” Tahki yells, “No, He’s not!”

“Yeah, he is!” Mukki yells back, “He’s going to see Mama Nadie!”. He turns to me, “That’s why you’re going there, right?”

I chuckle and nod. “Yeah,” I say. This kid is smart.

He smiles and grabs my hand. He pulls me with him, and onto the bus.

Tahki follows us, a very sour look on her face.

Mukki leads me to a seat by the window in the back of the bus. He sits me down, and then sits on my lap, looking out of the window.

Tahki sits next to me, arms crossed.

“What’s your name?” Mukki asks.

“Josh,” I say.

“Nice to meet you Josh,” Mukki says.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mukki,” I say.


	9. Chapter 9

I’m now seated on a cushion on the floor, sitting across from Mama Nadie, surrounded by other important figures in the community.

Mama Nadie is an older Cree woman, her greying hair tied into two braids, both tied in beaded strings with feathers, like many of the men and women here. She has a very serious look on her face as she stares me down. “Why have you come here?” she asks.

“I need help,” I say.

“With?” she asks.

“A curse,” I say.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What do you mean?” she asks, quietly.

I sigh. I reach behind my head, and start to untie my scarf. I let it fall off of my face, and the group of people around me gasp.

Mama Nadie nods, slowly. “You’ve been cursed by the mountain,” she says, “How long have you been like this?”

“About…a little over a month,” I say, not believing it’s been that long.

She looks at me, mildly confused, slightly amused. “You should have fully turned by now…” she mutters, “…it takes a very strong soul to resist the wendigo’s instincts,”

“I was nearly lost,” I say, “if my friends hadn’t have found me,”

“How are you lucid?” she asks.

“They’ve been trying to get me to eat anything other than human…” I say, “It’s been working…but…I…I still…”

“You still crave human flesh,” she says, shaking her head, “It’s the wendigo trying to take back the host that’s fighting against it…”. She stares at me for a second, maybe considering her options. “Prove your worth,” she says, “prove to me that you won’t kill all of us in our sleep, and I will help you retain control,”

“All…all I would want,” I say, “is to look normal again. I don’t care about the hunger anymore. I’ve learned to live with it. And…I enjoy being strong, and fast, and…”

“So, you…accept the curse of being a wendigo?” Mama Nadie asks, “It’s quite the burden to hold, young man,”

“I’m prepared,” I say, “I can handle it,”

She slowly nods, narrowing her eyes.

Suddenly, Tahki bursts into the room, panicked. “There’s a fire!” she says, “There’s a fire!”

All of the leaders stand up, and start toward the door.

“There’s people trapped inside the building!” Tahki says, “They’re all up on the top floor!”

The next thing I know, I’m running down the road, no shoes on, toward the burning building.

“Josh!” Tahki calls after, “You forgot your shoes!”

“Don’t need them!” I yell back. As soon as I reach the building, I skid to a stop, cutting up the bottoms of my bare feet. 

A crowd of people have already gathered, some men yelling for them to start gathering buckets of water. 

I take off my coat, and set it on the ground. I walk to the front of the crowd, gently pushing past people, staring at the top window. I had just seen a child-sized hand slapping against the window pane.

“Josh!” Mama Nadie calls out to me, “What are you doing?”

“I…I can save them,” I say. Before she can protest, I crouch down and spring onto the porch roof. I take a sharp breath, the world coming into sharp focus. Colors slightly fade away, and everything that even slightly moves is tinted orange. I crawl onto the wall next to me, somehow sticking to it like a spider, climbing the building until I get to the top floor window. I balance on the sill of the window on my toes, clinging to the top of the frame. I lean back for a second, and I kick one of the panes in the window, breaking it with ease. I swing myself inside the burning building, landing softly on the floor.

A child and their mother is cowering in this corner of the room, staring at me, terrified.

“I’m here to help,” I say to them.

The mother stares at me for a second, but then nods. She stands up, ushering her child toward me.

I glance around the room, and see a staircase, unblocked. “Get to the stairs,” I say, “I don’t know how long the building will stay up,”

The mother, glances in the direction of the stairs, looks back at me and nods.

As we make out way down the hall, I go into the rooms we pass, finding trapped people and directing them toward the stairs. In one room, I have to lift a charred, smoldering beam over my head, so people can pass by me. I didn’t think that I could have actually done it, but once I had grabbed the edge of the beam, it seemed so easy.

Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, ruN, RUN, RUN, RUN, RUN…

I shake my head, trying to force the instinct to get as far as I can from fire as I can. These people I need my help, I think, I can’t abandon them…I usher people toward the stairs, when the roof creaks above us. As a beam falls, I block the child from getting hit. As the beam hits me, I feel some ribs crack, and my skin burns. I hiss in pain.

The child stares up at me with large, watery eyes.

I turn around, and see the child’s mother. “It’s fine,” I say, “get out. Get safe. I’ll get her out of here, unharmed,”

The mother just stares for a minute, and nods. Her and the other people in the house run down the steps.

I turn to the little girl, and I kneel in front of her. “I’m going to get you out of here,” I say to her, “but I need you to trust me, okay?”  
She nods, eyes dripping.

I extend my hand, and she takes it. I pick her up, and have her wrap her arms around my neck and her legs around my lower ribs.

As she grips onto me, there’s a slight pang of pain in my ribs, but I can’t let that stop me.

I navigate the burning rubble, and get to the window that I kicked in. “Okay,” I say, “hold on tight,”

Her grip gets tighter, making my ribs scream in pain.

I perch on the window-frame, broken glass digging into my feet. I swing myself over to the roof below us, and then crawl to its edge. I carefully face away from the edge, and grip it with my hands. I hang off of the edge of the roof, and after pausing for a second, drop off of the roof, landing softly on the ground below.

The little girl gives a small yelp as we fall.

“Nuttah!” her mother screams, running toward us.

The little girl starts to cry as I hand her to her mother. Both of them are covered in soot, but unharmed. “Thank you, stranger,” the mother says, “You saved us,”

“No problem,” I mutter.

Mama Nadie walks up to me, and stares for a second. “You’ve earned my respect,” she says, “I will help you, but it will take a while. A few weeks, at most,”

I sigh. A few weeks? I think, A few weeks away from Chris? Well…It will be worth it in the end…I nod. “Okay,” I say.

“But first,” she says, “I’ll heal your injuries after your good deed,” she gestures to my feet.

I look down to see that I’m standing in a small puddle of my own blood. “Oh,” I say, pain finally registering in my feet, back, and ribs, “Ouch…”

Mama Nadi just chuckles, and leads me to a house near the center of the town. It has multiple garden patches out front, with odd plants growing in them. She leads me inside the house, where Mukki and Tahki are sitting at a table.

Mukki looks up, and instantly smiles. “Josh!” he says, “You’re going to stay?”

I smile and nod.

Tahki glances at me, and scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Josh shall be staying with us,” Mama Nadie says, “but, for now, he needs to sleep. He’s injured,”

Mukki nods, still smiling.

Mama Nadie leads me to a small room that has a bed in it. She sits me down on the bed, and leaves the room for a moment. She returns with a roll of bandaging, a pillow, and a bowl of odd colored paste. “Lay down on your chest,” she says, “I need to set your broken ribs,”

I nod, and lay down on the bed.

She places her hands in the middle of my back, and with a quick press, I hear a slight click.

I yelp in pain.

I can feel her rub something on my feet. It stings at first, but then an icy-cold, numb kind of feeling envelopes my feet. She then wraps my feet. “Sit up,” she says.

I comply, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Take off your shirt,” she says, over in one corner of the room, looking through a basket of what seems to be pale, curved sticks.

I hesitate, but follow her orders. I find that the back of my shirt is charred and full of holes.

“Sit up straight,” she says, approaching me, “Or a straight as you can, without hurting yourself,”

I straighten my back, and she presses some of my lower ribs. When I gasp or yelp in pain, she stops. She then holds one of the short, pale, curved sticks to my rib, and tapes it down with medical tape. After I watch her do this multiple times, I notice that the sticks aren’t sticks. They’re animal ribs.

“I need to give your ribs a proper shape to heal to,” she says to me, “if you’re curious why I use animal ribs,”

I pause, unsure whether she noticed I was staring or if she can read minds.

“Lay back down on your front,” she says, and after I do, I feel her rub something onto the burns on my back. The same something that she rubbed onto my feet. She has me sit up again, and she wrapped my torso, holding the ribs tightly in place, and covering the burns on my back. “Now,” she says, “Sleep. You’ll feel your injuries in the morning, when the adrenaline properly wears off,”

I nod, and lay on my side on the bed. I thought that having the animal rib over my broken one and laying on it would be painful, but…it actually doesn’t hurt. I slowly drift off to sleep, thinking of Chris, knowing that I did this for him.


End file.
